Field of Study
by HotLiquidJello
Summary: Back from Christmas holidays during their 6th year at Hogwarts, the students discover something different has been planned for them. Unwillingly, rivals Draco and Hermione have to work together in their Field of Study.
1. Chapter 1  The Party Begins

The day was unusual; utterly stunning to the point that it earned more than a casual "oh, isn't it lovely out?" from nannies in the park, but rather made grown men want to belt out the chorus from "Zip-a-dee-doo-dah". Anything could happen on this bright winter's day. Today held a promise-a promise that boded well for all who enjoyed the clear blue skies and merrily tweeting birds. Or so it would seem.

Indeed, it not appear so to a young man with platinum blonde hair and steel grey eyes. He was a looker, no question. Armed with a strong jaw line, and a perpetual smirk, he was a deadly weapon against the females of the world. A huddled group of gossiping girls become silent as he strode past, nursing their wounded pride as he walked away without giving them so much as a passing glace.

_Foolish muggles_, Malfoy thought to himself, rolling his eyes, knowing full well that their chorus of sighs was targeted at him. _As if_.

The pure-blood supremacist made his way back home to his manor as the holiday season was drawing to a close. Letting the massive double doors close with a great _slam_ as he made his way up the great stair case, he proceeded to his room.

After exerting just enough care and strength to close the door, he collapsed on the massive bed and let his thoughts wash over him.

"Ugh, another one of mother and father's ever-so-important parties tonight," He said aloud. He didn't worry about anyone hearing him. His parents were too involved in their own lives, which centered on keeping up their appearances; they couldn't be bothered to check in on their own son, unless it was to see if he was dressed and ready to come down so they could parade him around to ministry officials.

"If I have to tell _anyone_ how much 'I just love Hogwarts' I'm going to _cruciatas _myself…" Draco didn't need another reminder that school was where he'd rather be. Having to talk about Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts at a social dinner was rubbing his face in the fact that he was so close, yet so far to the place he truly wanted to be. "Just a few more days until this bloody break is over."

And with that he rolled over, and willed himself to sleep, clothes on and all.

* * *

><p>Several hours, and many hard knocks on his bedroom door later, Draco woke up. To both his satisfaction and displeasure, he found he had a throbbing headache. "Ow!" he said, massaging his temples, <em>but maybe I won't have to attend that god forsaken party…<em>

The rasps on the door continued, now accompanied with an incessant "Draco, Draco!" from his mother.

"Come in!" he shouted, falling back onto his bed.

The door opened and in sauntered Narcissa Malfoy. Her usually grim features were not aided by a solid line of mouth from finding her son frittering time away in bed, instead of being a perfectly dressed, ready-to-impress heir.

"Draco!" she nearly shrieked, "The party's in less than an hour! Why in Merlin's name aren't you ready? Get up!"

"Mother would you quit squawking at me?" Draco snapped. "I have a headache!" He rolled over onto his stomach, hoping that if he buried his face from his tormentors of light and a fretful mum, they would in fact cease to exist.

Next thing he knew, his pillow flew out from under his face, and across the room.

An "urf" of pain escaped his throat as his forehead hit the hard oak headboard. "Honestly mum, you won't knock a headache out of me. At least not without replacing it with a genuine bruise." After a moment he added, "And what a good show for company that'd make."

His mother withdrew a long wand again from her dark robes. A quick mutter and flick of her wrist later, all pain from Draco's head was gone.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"Now _do _get dressed and ready. We can't have you miss another party. Need I remind you the embarrassment your father and I suffered last time when you snuck out?"

"That won't be necessary," he said perfunctorily, rolling off the bed. When he stood up, he was noticeably taller than his mother, but that didn't stop her, or his father from making him feel barely an inch off the ground. "Are we through?" he shot over his shoulder as he moved towards the wardrobe.

"Just be down in half an hour," Narcissa replied. It was remarkably similar to the snarl of a hungry wolf.

With an exasperated sigh, Draco pulled some nice clothes out of his wardrobe and laid them on his bed. He went into his bathroom, peeled off his day clothes, and stepped into the shower. He turned the faucet on at random, not caring whether the water scalded or froze him as he let the water pour over him. His head resting against the cold, tiled wall, he nearly wished himself to be washed down the drain too. He was absolutely beat.

* * *

><p>Dressed, and as mentally geared up as he could get himself, Draco headed downstairs. He stopped to peer over the banister and survey the battlefield he was about to enter.<p>

_Death eaters mostly,_ Draco observed. His smirk lost some of its smugness. _But enough ministry minions and other people of high society not in the Dark Lord's inner circle that they all have to behave. _The youngest Malfoy feigned some swag to put back into his step as he came down the rest of the steps to join the frivolities of the evening. He was barely off the bottom step when some ministry man he might've recognized if he cocked his head to the side and squinted gave him a thunderous slap on the back.

"Draco m'boy! My have you grown! You were little more than egg the last time I saw you!" Chummy ministry man, laughed heartily at his own joke. Draco's mouth turned up in the right corner to hint at a smile, but his eyes screamed what he was thinking, _Get this madman away from me _and _the punch!_

"So then," the man continued, oblivious to the fact that his attentions were completely unwanted, "how's school going?"

_Merlin's beard! I can't escape the bloody question for five minutes. "_Oh, just great. Can't wait to get back," the cornered prey responded dryly as he searched frantically for a way out.

"Ah, studious are you? Good to hear. Don't be too serious 'bout your school work though. Got to get your social in too. Handsome lad like you, I bet there are a few witches about who have their eye on you. Ah, I remember the trail of witches I left in my wake…" Draco rolled his eyes and tried to keep from scoffing as the man prattled on. "But _balance_, m'dear boy. Balance is key! It's all about balance. Can't do anything without balance. If you didn't have balance, you'd be stuck smack on the floor, wouldn't you?"

If Draco hadn't already been certain the man was drunk, the copious number of times he had just said the word "balance" confirmed it.

Seeing his need, Aunt Bellatrix swooped in. "Ah, Menthross, it's been ages. Have you tried the cheese straws?" She asked, leading him away from the tall blonde, thanking her desperately with his eyes.

_One minute of this party and I'm already dead sick of it_. Eyeing the rest of the attendees with contempt, he snuck out to the courtyard with the silence and stealth of a shadow.

The party carried on, no one ever batting an eyelash at the _crack_ off in the distance.


	2. Chapter 2 Dinner is Ruined

"UGH!" Hermione shouted at the parchment in front of her, throwing her quill down in despair

Ginny jumped, disturbed from her reading. "Whassamatter?"

"I _can't _do this!" She moaned, collapsing onto her desk.

"Can't do _what_, exactly?" Ginny was often perplexed at Hermione's temper tantrums. The ginger loved her bushy-haired friend dearly, but she did tend to start yelling in frustration without thorough explanation

"Writing!" Hermione whined through the desk.

"The great Hermione Granger?" Ginny said, aghast. "It can't be. What have you done with her? I demand you give her back to me immediately."

The bushy hair moved with laughter.

"Well you're laughing. So you're not sick, which is good," Ginny mused aloud, getting off her bed and pulling over another chair in her crowded bedroom to sit by Hermione. "But it seems like something's off. What are you trying to write that's so impossible? Slughorn isn't asking for a roll of parchment explaining the differences of the effects of bezoars originating from southern versus northern hemispheres, is he?"

"No, it isn't an essay anyone assigned over Christmas holiday," Hermione said, pulling herself back up to standard sitting position, her shoulders still hunched forward. "I just…. Wanted to write."

"Since when have you become an aspiring author?" Ginny asked, intrigued.

"It's a sort of recent revelation, I guess. I just figured 'Hey. I love reading so much. Wouldn't it be nice to see my name along with some of the greats? To be what inspires me?'"

"Yeah, put it that way it makes perfect sense," the youngest Weasley agreed. "But it's not going so well?"

"Nope."

"Well, what's your story about?"

"I don't know! That's the problem. I know that I _really_ want to write. And I _had_ inspiration, but damn! Those pesky muses are fleeting…"

Hermione was no longer hunched over, but now leaning back in the chair at Ginny's desk, exasperated. The angle accentuated her long neck. Her eyebrows scowled over honey-brown eyes as her salmon-pink lips pouted in concentration.

Ginny looked over her best friend for a minute, then stared her dead in the eye. "Hermione Jean Granger."

The serious tone snapped the brunette out of her thinking stupor. "Mhmm?"

"You know full well you're bloody brilliant. I have every confidence that you will churn out some of the most excellent pages in wizarding history. Now we should probably head down for dinner before Mum chews our head off."

Hermione sighed some of the pressure away. "Thanks, Gin."

"No prob."

The girls shuffled down the crooked, rickety stairs of the burrow. They were the first ones down, so they aided Molly Weasley in setting the table. The second the oven door opened to reveal a gorgeous roast, the rest of the Weasley household, and Harry appeared.

As the party stuffed their faces, Hermione turned to Ginny. "It's devouring me Ginny! I can always do anything I put my mind to, and this one time I can't…"

"Quit obsessing. 'Watched water won't boil.' Isn't that what muggles say?"

"Umm… pretty much," Hermione said as she stifled her laughter.

"Just wait. You and your muse will find each other."

"Now what are you two gossiping about?" Fred and George said in tandem, popping up right between the girls' startled faces.

"What you're going to wear the first day?" asked Fred

"What hair care potion you're thinking about trying?" inquired George

"Or how dastardly handsome the two of us are," they finished together

"We're talking about a book Hermione's going to write" Ginny, told everyone matter of fact, now that they had the whole table's attention.

"Why do you want to do that?" Ron chimed in, mouth full of roast. He swallowed. "Ah, I know. Have you finally read all the books in the world, and need to create some more material before you explode?"

While she knew Ron was just teasing her the way he always did, and he didn't mean anything malicious by it, something about this completely struck her the wrong way. Maybe it was that this was something that meant a lot to her, or that she was so livid he was with Lavender, or some combination of the two. Whatever the reason, she slid her chair back with such speed and force, that Crookshanks was out of the room like a shot, and Pigwidgeon flapped about the room, startled. The entire table of rambunctious Weasleys, plus Harry, went silent and stared at her.

"May I be excused please?" Hermione said, with as much composure as she could muster.

Molly simply nodded.

The room remained silent after the kitchen door slammed with force, masking the loud _crack_.


	3. Chapter 3 Two Cracks Meet and Divide

Draco looked out across the river.

_It just keeps moving on, _he thought as he tossed a flat rock across its glassy surface_. You skip stones across it, and it swallows them up like they were never there; all that's left is a fragmented memory in the form of a ripple. _

The tall, blonde heir wanted to be much more than a mere memory of an inconsequential ripple.

But then again, the idea of just floating wherever the current took him did indeed sound tempting.

Frustrated at himself, his parents, and the tangle of crap that composed his life, he took a baseball size rock and just hurled it as far and hard as he could; it landed with a splash and faded into ripples.

He put his hands behind his head and sighed.

"There's just no winning. If I do what everyone expects of me, I'm miserable. But going after some other life… Who knows where that leads? Certainly not to warm place in the hearts of those at Malfoy Manor…" Then he laughed, "Ha, assuming they have any-"

Just then, he heard a distinct _crack_.

* * *

><p>Hermione paced down by the river, kicking lumps of snow. Her hair, reflecting how out of sorts she felt, was even more disheveled than usual.<p>

While Hermione had never bothered to get too chummy with the other girls in Gryffindor tower-Why bother? She'd always had Ron and Harry to fill the spots of best mates, and she would always take their brusque boyishness over the troubles of too much estrogen-she had dormed with Lavender for over five years now. She had thought that meant something. But then, without so much as a glance to Hermione, Lavender just stole Ron out from under her

_Not that he was ever _mine_ per se, _Hermione quickly reminded herself, _but certainly, that was an explicit boundary she crossed!_

She plopped down on the snowy bank

"What am I going to do," she moaned aloud, hoping the stars could hear her over the babbling river.

* * *

><p>"Granger!"<p>

She jumped up and turned towards the voice. _No. No, anyone but-_"Malfoy!"

"What are _you_ doing here!?" They spat at each other.

Draco stared; utter loathing seeping from his steely eyes.

Knowing he would freeze in place before speaking first, she took a breath and accepted her forfeit. "This is where I come to think," Hermione answered, keeping all but the slightest hint of defeat from her voice. "You?"

_Impossible. She can't have the same spot. This is _my _spot. God, I sound like a petulant child in my own head. Granger! She always does this to me. Why has it got to be _her _here. I'd even rather have Potty or Weasel here than _this_ foul mudblood._

"Thinking about what?" he replied, refusing to concede they were in the same place, at the same time, for the same reason. "Trouble in paradise? Has the Weasel-shack finally collapsed, and you're blaming yourself? _If only I hadn't brought both my editions of _Hogwarts, a History-"

"Shut it Malfoy!" Hermione screamed at him.

"Ah… so something is awry at the Weasel-bee's."

His smirk reminded Hermione exactly why she had punched him their third year. "Just tell me what _you're_ doing here."

"The one time I actually inquire about your measly mudblood existence, and you squander the opportunity. You disappoint me Granger."

"And you're stalling, Ferret," her furrowed brows narrowed further. "What's _your_ big secret?" She paused for a beat. "Hang on. How did you even get here? You've bragged about your malodorous manor so many times, I know it's not around here."

"Same way you did Goody-Two-Shoes Granger." His smirk grew, and with a _crack_ he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4 Noted

Author's Note: So, in case anyone noticed, it's been a year since I uploaded the first two chapters. Chapters 3-5 have been done since that time, and I really don't know why I didn't upload Ch. 3 at least until now. I never really forgot about this, but just figured it was going to be like all of my other projects: forever incomplete. But then I decided to look at it again the other day, and miracle of miracles, I still liked it. I can't promise regular updates (first of all I'm me, and please forgive me, but I kind of suck sometimes, and second of all UNI! For which I'm taking a lot of units this semester), but can assure you that I really do want to write this, and I will endeavor to not wait a year between posting hoarded chapters. I now present unto you…

.:o0o:.

**Chaptah 4**

.:o0o:.

Hermione was left dumbfounded.

"He-he can apparate? He kn-knows _I _can apparate?" Hermione stuttered to herself. She backed into a tree, slid herself down it and sat down, her brain desperately trying to process. "Oh no. This can't be good. And I here I was, thinking I was so clever being able to do it. Well, just look-y how that turned out, Hermione. Brilliant," she chastised herself. "The one bit of magic they can't trace…"

She pulled her knees in, and dropped her head into her hands. "And how does he always get more information out of me than he reveals himself? Vile cockroach… Okay Hermione, maybe we can reason this out. What reasons could the ferret have for a secret hide-away?"

Having been given a task, the gears in her head sprung into action to attack the problem. "He isn't the type for playing hide-and-seek with his cronies. Hmmm… Foul and vile as he is, he wouldn't be making deals like Mudungus. A liaison-" NO! That was altogether too disturbing for many reasons, and not likely; he was seeing pug-faced Pansy, that was common enough knowledge. And _she_ would be a welcome guest at Malfoy manor. That meant… _this was his thinking spot too_.

For a second she almost felt bad that she had not only infringed upon his space, but interrupted him. Then of course she remembered that it was Draco Malfoy, scourge of the earth. And he had threatening information about her. While clearly his existence had always been solely to torture her, this was too much. _You better watch yourself Ferret_, she thought, mentally preparing herself for the battles to come.

* * *

><p>Upon arrival back at his mansion, the smirk was gone. <em>Blast! Now she knows I can apparate as well. Well there goes that bit of black mail I can hang above her head… And she knows my spot. Who knows how long she's been fouling it up for. And she knows where I live?<em> That last one was a shocker. Showed she paid attention when he talked. _Blast again!_ She was ahead of him. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer," the old adage rang through his head. How could he have been so oblivious for 6 years!? _And what did Granger have to be thinking about in private? _he wondered.

Or was that even the case? While she hadn't seemed like she was lying, she had no reason to tell any Malfoy the truth. She was clever; he couldn't deny that, though "insufferable know-it-all" as Snape had once called her was a much more apt description. Nonetheless, her smarts would have made her a sharp Slytherin. Knowledge is power, or so they say. And Draco would not suffer a mudblood having dominion over him. Granger was a threat, as she had always been but he was on high alert now. The wench had better watch herself.


End file.
